


Forgotten

by CatherineMaria



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Jealous John, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Military John, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Work In Progress, Young Break-Up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:27:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8158888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatherineMaria/pseuds/CatherineMaria
Summary: Sherlock and John met when they were 12. Although they knew they were soulmates, it took them 2 years to accept they had feelings for each other and 1 more to act on them. However, when they’re 18, Sherlock gets into an accident, which leads to a full amnesia. He doesn’t remember his life or his family, and above all, he doesn’t remember John. Sick of not remembering, Sherlock leaves England to start a new life alone.11 years later, he decides to return to London. This is what happens next.





	1. The Adventure of the Resident Patient

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! First of all, I want to say English is not my first language, so please be kind to me, as I will certainly make some mistakes!
> 
> This is my first work in a fandom and is just an idea that popped into my head. I love angst this big, and I also love amnesia AU and a jealous John. And come on, not seeing the person you love for years? I adore those kind of stories, so I thought I would make one of my own. Also, there is a lot in this story that may not correspond to what really happens in reality, but just go with the flow as this is just a story.  
> Anyway, thank you and I hope you enjoy this! xx

“According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.”  
\- Plato, “The Symposium”

»»»

Today

 

John can’t breath. He has simply lost the concept of breathing. He can feel his gut on fire and a sudden urge to throw up. This morning he left his dreadful bedsit thinking that taking a walk through the city was an excellent idea. God, if regret could kill…

All because Sherlock Holmes, his soulmate, is staring at him for the first time in 11 years.

 

»»»

12 years ago

 

Beep 

Beep

Beep

The sound of the machine was as distinctive as irritating. Sherlock begun to move his fingertips, followed by his head and finally his eyelids. When opened, he closed them immediately. The light was so intense and white, like everything else around him, that it hurt even the strongest eyes. Hospital. Why?

“Sherlock? Sherlock! Can you hear me honey? Squeeze my hand if you can!” – a woman said. 

He tried to move, he really tried, but it seemed that his body did not want to obey him, as if he were trapped by invisible currents in a deep, dense and dark lake. The realization of this fact made him start to panic, his heart beating furiously, something that did not go unnoticed by the machine, that began beating more quick and loudly.

“Calm down, we're here Sherlock! You’re going to be fine darling. Mycroft, call a nurse quickly!” – the woman spoke again, sounding alarmed.

After a minute, the door opened and a nurse came in with a doctor, whom proceeded to examine his vital signs. Sherlock felt they touched him in various places, saying certain things that for him were not clear. He was too stunned. He felt a huge weight that kept tempting him into sinking in a black abyss. He tried to fight and stay awake, but this fight was rapidly becoming worthless, and he eventually dove into darkness. 

When he woke again, Sherlock felt more confused than ever. Where was he? Ah, yes. The hospital. But why? He couldn’t remember, for the life of him, why he was in a hospital, why his head hurt so badly. And most of all, who was this woman that kept asking his name and telling him that he was okay, that everything was going to be okay.

He tried again to open his eyes and this time was succeded. He realized then that there were three people in the room. A woman was leaning over the bed looking anxiously at him, a man was sitting in a chair looking out the window, and a younger boy who dressed impeccably was leaning against the Wall with an umbrela at his side.

“Sherlock, you’re finally awake!” – the woman said. In that instant, all three pair of eyes landed on him and he felt more exposed than ever.

“We were so worried Sherlock. Thank god.” – the man said as he rose from the chair.

Who are this people? Why are they talking to him like they know him? This doesn’t make any sense.

In that moment, a doctor came into the room and went immediately to the bed.

“How are you feeling Sherlock? It was quite serious what hapenned to you.”

“Fine. And nothing happened to me.” – he awsered. He just wanted to get this over with and go home. But… where was home? He didn’t know where he lived. He didn’t know who were this people. Hell, he didn’t even know why he was in a hospital in the first place.

And then it hit him, like a blown to the face.

“Amnesia.” – he whispered to himself.

“Yes. You’re quite correct.” – the doctor agreed. – “You had an accident two weeks ago and you’ve been in a coma ever since. The seriousness of the situation, and through the tests we made during these two weeks, I feared that when you woke up this could be a problem, although you don't look exactly like the kind of person who just woke up from a coma." – the doctor frowned.

“If.” – Sherlock remarked.

The doctor frowned again in a confusion expression and asked, “If what?”

“If I woke up.”

“Yes, well. We must never lose hope Sherlock.” – the doctor smiled at him. - “Now I’m going to ask you a few questions, and if you don’t know the answer don’t be afraid to say so, I need to find out the depth of your amnesia to know what we can do to help revert this situation.”

Sherlock only nodded.

“What is your full name?”

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes.”

“How old are you?”

“I… don’t know.”

“What year are we?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“What country are we?”

“England. London, I think. I live here. Somewhere.”

“Alright. Now into names. Can you tell me one famous minister ?”

“And why would I know something like that?!” – he almost yelled.

“So you don’t know who’s the current prime minister?”

“Like that matters.” – Sherlock said impatiently.

“Very well. Who are these people? Can you tell me their names?” – the doctor gestured towards the three other people in the room.

“No, I can’t. Am I suposed to?” – there was a gasp in the room.

“Well yes.” – the doctor hesitated - "Tell me, do you remember your childhood? Any memories of you as a child?”

He thought hard. He tried to remember something, anything really, but couldn’t.

“No.”

The doctor then grabbed a spoon and a plastic container with soup inside and delivered them to Sherlock.

“Do you know how to use what I just gave you?”

Sherlock rolled is eyes. He despised being treated like a child. “Of course I do, I’m not an idiot.” He ate a spoon of soup. It was horrible.

“Interesting.” – the doctor said. He then proceeded to hand a bottle of water to Sherlock, whom imediately took it from him and started drinking it. – “Very interesting indeed. Alright, I want some more exams of your head now that you’re awake.” – that said, he turned and left the room. Imediately after a nurse came in, apologised to the three people that were in his room – what are they still doing here?! – and took him to another room.

 

When he opened his eyes, he was again in his room. He reached for the bottle of water and drank a little. Then he turned and saw them, and couldn’t help it anymore. “Who are you? Why are you in my room and why haven’t you left yet?”

The three pairs of eyes turned to him, and he noticed the woman was crying. The moment she opened her mouth to say something, the door opened and the doctor came in, bringing a chart with him. 

He lanced a troubled glance at Sherlock. “I’m afraid I don’t have good news to tell you, young man.” – he said – “You have a few broken ribs, but they will cure themselves with proper medication and time, and their not what I’m worried about. You have a more serious head injury than what I was expecting. It appears, for what I could observe, that you have what you might call a semi-full amnesia. It’s very rare, you see. You didn’t forget about your identity, your knowledge of some things and your basic childhood learnings. However, it appears that your brain has erased space, time and people from your mind. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes. Now tell me what I really want to know – how long does it take to get my memories back and when can I leave this dreadful place?”

There was silence for a moment while the doctor was thinking, and he finally answered – “That’s the thing, Sherlock. I don’t know. Could be days, weeks or even months from now.” – the doctor wrinkled his nose and then said what was really bothering him. – “You may never get them back.” 

It took longer than Sherlock cared to admit to process this particular information, and when he did, he noticed the woman in the back had started crying again.

“But,” – the doctor continued – “The first year may be crucial for your recover and there is a higher chance that you’ll get back what you lost. I will prescribe you a series of drugs, and you will be accompanied by a therapist and a physical therapist who will help you a lot in this case. The family is also very important at this time, it will surely awaken childhood memories that erased from your brain. If you have any more questions, just ring the bell. I’ll leave you alone with your family to process all this.” He looked up, turned around and left.

“My… my family?” – Sherlock looked up to the woman who smiled at him throw the tears.

“Yes dear, we’re your family. I’m your mother, Violet Holmes”

“And I’m your father, Siger Holmes. This is Mycroft, your brother.” – The man in the chair said as he rose from it. – “I know things aren’t good, but we’ll work to get your memories again son. What’s importante is you’re alive.” – he smiled at him.

In this moment, the door opened and Sherlock was ready to tell the doctor to leave because he didn’t have more questions, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that it was a blonde hair boy with an expression of anxiety that entered throw the door. The boy looked straight at him with a torn smile, and Sherlock had the impression that that smile alone could melt an iceberg.

“Thank god! I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up and it took me ages to take a cab! I’m so relived you’re finally awake, was starting to get desperate to see those wonderful eyes again. How are you, love?” – the boy asked, leaning and giving Sherlock a kiss on his forehead.

Sherlock was shocked by this gesture, and although he knew deep down he shouldn’t ask out of nowhere that question, he just couldn’t help it.

“Who are you?”

He watched as the blood drained from the boy’s face, leaving him pale as a ghost, as he replied – “I'm… I’m John,” – and then he said two words that would haunt Sherlock for years – “Your soulmate.”


	2. A Case of Identity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!  
> I wanna thank you sooooo much for all the feedback I received from you, it made me truly and madly happy!  
> Here's chapter 2, hope you enjoy it! xx

»»»

A long time ago

 

Sherlock Holmes was 8 years old when his soulmark appeared on his forearm.

That was one of the happiest days of his life. He already knew everything about soulmates and what this mark meant, and he couldn’t be more happy. Despite what his fat useless excuse of a brother said, love would always be an advantage. He saw that every time he looked at his parents. The love that was held in their eyes every time they looked at each other proved that his brother was deeply wrong.

Sherlock wanted someone to look at him the way his father looked at his mother. 

He was pretty sure his soulmate would be a man, as he already knew that he was gay, age be damned. 

Sherlock always loved to watch the sky at night, he thought it was one of the most beautiful things the humanity were gifted with. Although he thought this, he also didn’t care much about the universe, never having the slightest interest to know things that wouldn’t have use for him. However, when the mark was manifested in a strange form that he only remembered seeing in the night sky, he set about to discover everything he could about it. 

 

He looked at the mark for the thousandth time. 

A silver ursa minor. 

Sherlock smiled. He didn’t know why his soulmark was this particular constellation, it confused him to no end, but he couldn’t wait to find out.

-

John Watson was 8 years old when his soulmark appeared on his forearm.

He didn’t know much about soulmates and soulmarks, never bothered to find out. At that age, he already knew that the person you’re meant to be isn’t always the person you end up with. 

His parents were a good example of this, as his mom and dad had very different soulmarks on their forearms. They hadn’t cared to search for their soulmates, instead prefered to settle with one another, which led to, at the age of 8, John having no father.

The day he was given his soulmark, he decided it was time to do a little research. He went to the nearest library and spent an afternoon sitting in one of the chairs, surrounded by books containing all the information he needed.

John discovered that the day your soulmark is given to you, it also is given to your soulmate, doesn’t matter if your soulmate is older or younger than you. A mark, which can take any form you could possibly imagine, will appear on your forearm, and that mark is so unique that in the whole world only your other half will have one exactly the same.

In one of the books, John read that some people have the misfortune of never finding their soulmates and, most of the times, they’ll start to feel signs of depression. Once it gets to that kind of state, it is only a matter of time before the person is so depressed that will eventually end up taking her own life and stopping the misery. At that words, John couldn’t stop but close his eyes and remember the day he came home and found his father dead with a shot in the head and the gun in his right hand. That day he made a promise to himself - he would never end up like his dad. He would never stop searching for his soulmate. He would never settle for anything less.

 

Of course, that didn’t prevent him from fantasizing about his soulmate. He hoped his soulmate would be a blonde girl with kind eyes and a beautiful smile, just like some of the girls he played with in school.

John looked at his mark for the second time that day.

A silver ursa minor.

He had always loved the universe and had a particular interest in the history of stars, so when the mark appeared, he instantly recognised the constellation. One of the first things he read was that the soulmark’s form wasn’t something random. It always had a meaning and would symbolize something important for both soulmates. John smiled. He really couldn’t wait to find out.

 

»»»

11 and a half years ago

 

“Sherlock, come on!”

“No.”

“It’ll be good for you.”

“Don’t care.”

“But I do.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Like I have a choice.”

“You do have a choice, John.”

“I really don’t. I can’t stop caring, so I’ll just have to try and help you.” 

“This conversation is making no sense whatsoever!” – Sherlock huffed. Why was John being so stubborn? And why had Mycroft suggested they should take a trip to France just because they had family there? It wouldn’t work, nothing had worked so far. Why did they think distant family could revive his lost memories? Idiots!

John lowered his head, shaking it. He was exausted. For the past six months he had tried everything that was in his power to help Sherlock. All the struggles, doubts and questions he had, John was there to elighten him. But it wasn’t enough. And he watched as Sherlock - day by day, week by week - was becoming a totally new person. A completely new identity. Sherlock always had been a warm person, full of passion for the things that interested him, and a great talker.

However, since the accident, he became a cold and distant person, rarely initiating a conversation and almost never saying more than the essential. He spent most of the day outside the house, never wanting company. He also didn’t sleep most of the nights, and was capable of spending an entire day in the same position without moving a muscle. And worst of all, he didn’t do deductions anymore. Not a single one. John never asked why because he was afraid of the answer. What if Sherlock didn’t know how to deduce anymore? 

But what hurt John the most, was that Sherlock avoided him whenever he could like the plague. He never wanted to be close to him or to speak to him. John almost had to force him everytime he wanted to talk with the boy. And although the doctor had told him that having his soulmate help him with the process of recover would be a good thing, Sherlock never let John tell him how they met, how was their relationship or if they knew what their soulmark meant. John had to repress every feelings and thoughts he had, afraid that might turn to much to Sherlock.

“Sherlock, please. Is just one week. I’m sure you can manage that without going crazy. And who knows, it might help you.” – John pleaded.

Sherlock made a face and said, - “Fine, I’ll do it. But with one condition.” 

John smiled at him. - “Anything.”

“I want to go alone.” – And Sherlock watched as the smile dropped from John’s face. – “I need a break John. From London, from this house, from-”

“Me.” – John suplied. – “You need a break from me.”

Sherlock looked down. - “I do John. Ever since I woke up in that hospital we’ve been together everyday non-stop and I am really tired. I need to be away from here, alone. Please.” – his voice was so small.

John took a deep breath. - “Alright, one week. But when you come back we’ll try some new things from that list the doctor gave you. And this isn’t open for discution.”

Sherlock gave a small nod. – “Thank you for understanding John.” – He then went inside the house, no doubt going to pack his things.

John sighed as he watched him go. He didn’t. He wish he did – it would make things so much easier for him. 

He didn’t understand.

 

»»»

11 years ago

 

John was sitting on a bench 50 meters from the Holmes’s house looking at the mountains that were seen in the distance. He had always loved this view, and over the years this had became one of his favourite places to be when he wanted to think, or when he didn’t want to think at all. He had spent hours here looking at nothing while Sherlock was in a coma, just because he couldn’t stand to whatch his motionless soulmate lying in a hospital bed. He even had prayed some anonymous identity for him to wake up. Never had he expect that Sherlock waking up didn’t mean their lives could go back to the way they were.

He heard someone aproach him and was shocked to see Sherlock sit at his side, also looking at the scenery. He had his hands clasped and a thoughtful look. Only god knew what was going throw his mind. Sherlock cleared his throat.

“Do you realize what day is today?” – he asked.

John frowned and looked at him, trying really hard to decipher his look.

“No, I don’t. What’s special about today?” – It wasn’t any of their birthdays nor anyone in their families.

“I woke up from my coma exactly a year ago.” – Sherlock replied in a low voice.

“Ha.” – Was all John said. ‘That’ day.

The day he fell on his knees when he realized there was no recognition in Sherlock’s eyes. That his own soulmate didn’t knew who he was, didn’t love him anymore. John feels his chest tighten and a pain in his stomach. It was the worst day of his life. Not even when his dad killed himself or his mother died of cancer did he felt so hurt like that day. 

Everyday since then has been a kind of hell. 

John tried to breath deeply but to no avail. These days it always hurt a little to breath.

“The doctor said the first year would be crucial to get my memories back,” – Sherlock continued – “And yet, I dind’t get a single one since that day. Not for the lack of trying.” 

Sherlock was right in that matter. He had tried nearly everything throw this current year, from therapy and pills to experimental treatments. His parents brought to him all the family albums they had and even newspaper clippings of cases he had helped the police solve. He even tried to do exercise! But nothing helped and everyone was starting to feel a bit desperate.

“If I had one wish in this life - just one - it would be to go back in time and stop you from taking that case. Even if I had to tie you up to a bed and listen you complain. Wouldn’t even let you go out that day.” – John smiled sadly at the thought. What he wouldn’t do to go back to that day.

“I know.” – Sherlock replied in a sad voice. 

Did he really? John knew it wasn’t fair to have those kind of thoughts, but Sherlock didn’t remembered that day, or any before his accident. Therefore, he didn’t knew how much John loved and missed him – his old him. Didn’t knew how much he was willing to give up just to have his old self.

“I’m starting to think they’ll never came back.” – Sherlock said quietly.

John looked at him and had the sudden urge to cry. Sherlock had said out loud what John had been thinking for the past two months. Only saying it out loud made it so much worst.

“I’ve been thinking that to.” – John confessed and damn it, it was time to let it out – “Sherlock,” – John whispered – “I’m not happy and so aren’t you. I’m desperate to make this work but I don’t know how we’ll live like this if you never recover. I know you can’t force someone to love you, but I’m your soulmate and I want you so much to love me. I need you to love me.” – his voice cracked in the last sentence. There, he finally said it. One year of feeling like shit, of watching the person he loved so much incapable of loving him back said in a few sentences.

Since they’ve acknowledge their feelings for one another and started a relationship, they’ve always been honest and open with each other. However, since the accident, John had repressed a lot, because he was not sure how Sherlock would react if he told him all the thoughts and fears that had crossed his mind throw this year. They didn’t have that kind of trust anymore, something that John struggled deeply not to think about.

“I need you to try, Sherlock. I know it’s a lot to ask you but I need to know you want this as much as I do, because if you don’t-” – John stopped as a sob rose from his throat. He raised his hand and caressed his cheek, looking deeply in his eyes and saying with a desperate voice, - “Don’t give up on who we were – are. I wanna be with you for life.” – he then rolled up his jumper sleeve and showed his soulmark to Sherlock – “Part of you is part of me. So please, Sherlock, say you’ll try. For us. For me. Please.”

Sherlock looked him straight in the eyes and bit his lip, looking down. John lowered his hand from his face, a feeling of sheer agony spreading in his chest. He saw from the corner of his eye Sherlock rising from the seat and preparing to leave.

“John,” – Sherlock said hesitantly - “I want you to know that if I could go back, I would never, ever, have taken that case. Although I don’t remember, I’m sure I considered you more important than that case - because honestly, you’re far more precious than any of that.”

John looked suddenly up, too stunned to speak. He didn’t miss the odd look Sherlock was giving him, and he couldn’t quite place what it meant. He hated not knowing Sherlock’s looks anymore because it was one of the few things that always made him different from other people, and he loved it. 

Sherlock gave a small nod, looked away and turned back, leaving. 

John turned, watching him go in Mycroft’s direction and stopping at his side, whispering in his ear. The two men then procceded to go inside the house, disappering from John’s view. Only then it occurred to him that it was the first time since all this happened that Sherlock iniciated voluntarily conversation with him. He smiled. Maybe this meant something good. Maybe things would start to finally be composed. Maybe, just maybe, he would get a chance to be happy with Sherlock after all.

He rose from his seat, feeling light and with a sentiment of contentment.

He joined the Holmes’s family in the table by the treehouse.

-

Two hours later John was talking to Mrs. Holmes when Mycroft appeared from the door of the house looking nothing like his usual self. He had his hair disheveled and his clothes were rumpled. His eyes had a mixture of concern and something John couldn’t identify. 

He reached Mr and Mrs. Holmes and said, - “Excuse me John, mummy and father, please come with me.” 

Mrs. Holmes looked at John shrugging and rising along with Mr. Holmes, and the three went inside the house. Not 5 minutes later they came back outside, Mrs. Holmes crying in Mr. Holmes’s shoulder. John rose from his seat but was stopped by Mycroft’s look as he advanced towards him.

“What happened?” – John asked alarmed. Mycroft looked at him for what seemed like an eternity and finally cleared his throat.

“Seat down, John.” – he commanded.

“I’m not going to seat down Mycroft. Tell me what happened. Now.” – John said in a stern voice.

“Alright. Sherlock left.”

John frowned. – “To do what? When is he coming back?”

Mycroft shook his head impatiently. – “John, do pay attention to my words. Sherlock left. He isn’t coming back.”

A snort erupted from John. – “Yeah, right. Did Sherlock asked you to say that as some sort of what, a prank? Because I’ll tell you Mycroft, it isn’t the least funny. Now where is that prat? I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.” – John said with an amused smile.

Mycroft then grabbed his arm and made John look him straight in the eyes. 

“John Watson, you listen to me. My brother came to me two hours ago telling me he was tired of not remembering any of the things he was supposed to. He had already packed his things and told me he was going to leave England to start anew. He also told me he doesn’t want us to look after him and asked me to tell you the news. Do you understand it now?” – As the words started to sink into John’s brain he stopped smiling, feeling like he had just been given a punch in the stomach. Mycroft dropped his arm.

“What- Why would- Why didn’t you stop him?! What’s wrong with you?!” – John yelled.

“He’s 19. If he decided he wants to leave, I can’t stop him. Neither can you.” – Mycroft said in a cold tone.

“You’re lying! Sherlock wouldn’t do something like that! You fucking liar! Where is he Mycroft? He wouldn’t leave just like that, not without saying goodbye to his family – to his soulmate.” – John’s voice cracked in the last word and he was struggling deeply to breath.

For a second, Mycroft’s facade disappeared and John saw something resembling grief and regret in his eyes. He then raised his hand, which was holding a small white card.

“Sherlock asked me to give you this.”

John looked at him and then at the paper. His vision begun to blur as he took it from him. He stops breathing entirely and for a moment wonders if he’s going to pass out.

The note, solid proof of what Mycroft just said, has written ‘John’ on the top with Sherlock’s handwriting. Under his name, it only has two brutal words.

“I’m sorry”

Exactly like a year ago, John collapses on his knees.


	3. The Adventure of the Blanched Soldier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo my beautiful readers!!  
> As always, I want to thank any and every single one of you who gave me a feedback on this - kudos, comments and bookmarks, I thank you all! You really are the best!  
> I'm sorry for this delay but sometimes I just lose my imagination...
> 
> Anyway, something much more important: Sherlock said I LOVE YOU to John!!!! Isn't it amazing?? We'll finally get what we have been hoping for for soooo long! Ah man, what a beautiful time to be alive...
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!  
> xx

»»»  


Today

 

One afternoon John decided to take a walk in the park. It was a nice day, one of those rare ones where the sun shines brightly and makes you want to do something with your life. 

Which was exactly the reason why he grabbed his CV papers as he was heading to the door. Maybe this would finally be his lucky day with getting a job.

John hated to walk through the city nowadays. People passed by him with a look of pity that infuriated him immensely. He dind’t need their pity. He just needed to not have been shot in that damn shoulder - but that was asking too much, so he resigned himself to just take the walk.

He needed to stay active. It was hard to believe he only had came back to London a month ago, because honestly it felt like an eternity. Every part of his body aches with the need to do something, to act and be filled with adrenaline again. To feel alive – again, that was asking too much. 

He lost the ability to feel alive years ago. He only survives the day.

He walked around the corner of a building, wondering how good it would be to stop at the nearest coffee shop and eat something because his stomach was already roaring. He looked around to see if there were any nearby and almost tripped over his own feet with the view that he came across. It couldn’t be, his sight was making a malevolent prank on him. And yet, it only could be. The man was leaning against the wall of a coffee shop smoking a cigarette, completely oblivious to what was going on around him. He put the cigarette back on his mouth, sucked and then pulled it out and threw it on the floor. When the man looked up, his gaze met John's.

And John stopped breathing. He can’t breath. He has simply lost the concept of breathing. He can feel his gut on fire and a sudden urge to throw up. This morning he left his dreadful bedsit thinking that taking a walk through the city was an excellent idea. ‘God, if regret could kill…’

All because Sherlock Holmes, his soulmate, is staring at him for the first time in 11 years.

His heart pounded furiously against his rib cage. ‘Is this a dream? Am I having hallucinations again?’, was John’s thought. But it couldn’t be an hallucination, because he wasn’t seeing a 19 year old boy as always. He was seeing a man. A beautiful, breathtaking man. And his mind couldn’t certainly make up an image so heartbreakingly perfect on her own.

He saw Sherlock tense immediately. He straightened himself and turned to face John.

Sherlock was taller than should have been possible, with a mess of dark curls and cheekbones so sharp that John was certain he could cut himself in them. And his eyes. God, those eyes. How he had missed those icy blue/green/grey eyes staring at him like he was the only person in the world.

Only then did John realise that he was standing with his cane in the middle of the street staring at Sherlock while people was passing by. John knew he couldn’t turn around and pretend he didn’t saw him, as much as he wanted to. 

Actually, he didn’t want that. But he learned a long time ago that what he really wanted would never become reality, so he just stopped hoping for it. 

Isn’t it strange how we spend days, months and even years trying to bury certain feelings and it only takes a few seconds for them to came back full force and crush us to the point where we feel everything at the same time? And the strangest part is that even when you are feeling everything, you still feel empty inside. Like there’s a piece of your soul that is lost and you don’t know how to find it and put it back together again.

John was feeling exactly that way. Although he was suddenly very nervous and had a drop of sweat running down his back, he wasn’t one to back off of anything, never have been. 

So he took a deep breath, and as he started walking in Sherlock’s direction, he only had one thought in his mind. ‘Into battle.’

John stopped in front of Sherlock and they stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, but were merely seconds. He cleared his throat.

“Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked at him from head to toe and then smiled – a fake smile.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

John was taken aback. Not because he didn’t know how Sherlock knew, but because it had been 12 years since the last time he had been the target of his deductions. It was still bloody impressive. But he decided not to answer it.

“So did you decided to come back to London or is this just a vacation?” – John asked.

John thought he saw something different in his eyes but after a second it was gone and he wasn’t sure. Sherlock smirked.

“I don’t take vacations.”

“Of course you don’t. May I ask what brings you here after all this time? I thought you ran away to never come back.” – claimed John. He was starting to get a little angry and above all, very curious. ‘Why now? What changed? Something must have, judgind by the way he left. Unless...’ - John stopped his train of thought – ‘Did he…?’

“You may.”

John stared at Sherlock with his heart in his mouth. It couldn’t be. After all this time. Could it?

“Did you remembered?” – he had to know.

Sherlock hesitated and John started feeling hopeful. Sherlock begun opening and closing his mouth. He looked like he wasn’t certain about what he should say. Finally, he let out a simple, - “I dind’t.” 

Disappointment hit John so hard he felt an excruciating pain in his chest. Of course he didn’t. He would never. How can John still expect him to? It wasn’t Sherlock’s fault. It wasn’t. Or maybe it was. He still had mixed feelings about this, even after all this years. 

“How are you, John?” – he heard Sherlock ask. He lifted his head and saw what looked like sincere concern mirroring his face.

“I’m great. Fine, yeah.”

Sherlock sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets. - “You don’t look fine.”

A sudden anger grew within John. How dare Sherlock tell him what he looked like? He hasn’t been in his life for over a decade now, he doesn’t know what it looks like. If he said he was fine then he was and Sherlock had no right to tell him otherwise. He was prepared to say that out loud when Sherlock interrupted him.

“You know it’s psychosomatic, right?”

John frowned. “Sorry, what?”

Sherlock sighed, and John remembered that he always hated to repeat himself. Apparently, that hadn’t changed.

“Your limp, John. It’s painfully obvious that it is psychosomatic.”

John frowned. His therapist had said exactly the same thing. But it didn’t feel psychosomatic to him.

“Actually no, I didn’t. So go on then, tell me what have you already deduced about me.” 

John watched him take a deep breath, no doubt to launch into the description of the conclusions he had come through the deductions. John was filled with a strong sense of nostalgia, remembering a 17 year old boy quite excited wanting to impress him.

“Your stance and the way you hold yourself says military. The papers you have in your hand say you trained at Barts so army doctor, obvious. You limp really bad when you walk but you’re standing like you forgot about it so it’s at least partially psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were tramatic. You have tan line on your hands with no tan below the wrist. You’ve been abroad recently but working, not on holiday. Hence my question in the begining about Afghanistan or Iraq.”

John couldn’t help but feel an intense pride of the man standing in front of him. He really was a genius.

“Afghanistan. And that - was amazing.” – he breathed, and saw Sherlock wide his eyes like it was the first time he heard someone praise him for his deductions. Like it was the first time he heard John praise him for his deductions. And then John remembered that for him it was actually the first time.

“Well, it wasn’t -” – Sherlock started to answer but was interrupted by a handsome blonde man who came from inside the shop.

“Sherlock babe, what is taking you so long to- ah, hello.” – said the man, – “Who’s this?” – he asked Sherlock as he put an arm round him.

Sherlock cleared his throat. - “Victor this is John. John, Victor.”

Victor smiled as he held out his hand to John, who took it. “Hi. I’m Sherlock’s boyfriend. Are you a friend of him?”

John let go of his hand like he had been burned. He thought he was going to be sick right there. 

It’s allowed – of course it’s allowed – to have other relathionships that aren’t with your soulmate. But once you find them, it’s very rare and not normal to be that way. ‘But this situation isn’t by any means normal’, John thinks.

“I’m a… I’m nobody,” – John swallowed, – “I was just passing by. Good afternoon for the two of you.” – He then passed through them and walked away. He heard Sherlock call his name but didn’t look back, instead started to walk faster. However it proved not to be faster enough as he felt a hand grab his arm, making him stop and turning him around. 

“John, let me explain!” – begged Sherlock almost out of breath.

“Nope. Don’t want you to. Don’t need you to.” – John shook his head as he said it.

“But I-” – Sherlock tried but John interrupted him.

“Stop! I said I don’t want an explanation! You don’t own me anything, Sherlock.”

Sherlock looked at him with his mouth half open. Did he seriously expected John to make a scene because of something like this? For god’s sake they had’t seen each other for years! Even if it hurt like hell John knew he didn’t have a say in Sherlock’s life. That thought made his skin crawl a little and he took a deep breath.

“I’m just glad you’re ok. I would be lying if I said I’m glad you have someone, so instead I’ll say that I’m glad you’re happy. I don’t expect you to know what it’s like to watch your soulmate love another person because -”

“I don’t -” – Sherlock interrupted but John raised a hand, silencing him.

“Let me finish. I don’t expect you to know that because I know you don’t feel things that way, not since the accident. So it’s all fine, really. I’ve got to go now, I have this… thing.” – John frowned and then tried to smile at Sherlock. He failed miserably. – “Goodbye, Sherlock.” 

Sherlock gave a nod and closed his mouth. John turned and started walking, cane by his side, missing the longing look that Sherlock had in that moment. 

As he was leaving, John praied to whoever was hearing to never bump into Sherlock again. He didn’t think his heart could take it - to see Sherlock over and over and not having him in his life. No, worst - knowing that someone had the privilege to have him in his life and that that someone wasn’t him.

He hoped London was big enough for that, he really hoped.

Little did he know that a week from that moment he would be chasing a criminal in that same street with his soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please leave a kudo, a comment or both, as I would really like your feedback! :)


	4. A Study in Scarlet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my darlings, I'm back!
> 
> Whaaaaat? Another chapter so soon? That's right, I'm shocked too but my imagination has been running wild! And this time, I took a break from the angst (well, just a little) and I wrote something more happier. So here it is chapter 4, please enjoy!
> 
> And thank you once more for every single feedback I received, I adore you guys! xx

»»» 

A long time ago

 

“Hey John! You wanna go to Rick’s party this evening? We could have some fun. And I heard he’s making brownies – the good ones.” – said Lilith with a smirk. – “If you know what I mean.”

John laughed. – “Nah, thanks. I have to study for the chemistry test that’s coming.”

Lilith made a scandalized look. – “But it’s Friday! You have all weekend to do that. Come on Johnny…”

John grabbed his backpack and started to rise from his seat. - “Sorry Lilith, but this is more important.”

Lilith began to pout as she remarked, - “You’re only 12! The grades you’re getting now won’t count for anything, you might as well have fun.”

“Well they may not matter now, but they’re the basics for the study of the ones that’ll matter. Goodbye Lily.”

John walked through the cafeteria and the empty halls of the school. When he was passing the gate he remembered that the chemistry’s teacher had refered earlier that they had a better chance to have a good grade if they studied from an old book that could be found in the library near by. 

John didn’t know what he wanted to do when he grew up, but his mother always told him to do his best in everything, and he had always followed that advice.

He entered the library and went to the chemistry section. There were a lot of books there, and he had to double check all the shelves to find the book he was looking for.

When he found it he realized that it was one of those books that you cannot order home. ‘Damn it. Now I’ll have to study here.’ – he thought. He sat down, put the book on the table and began to read the pages that seemed more important.

After two hours of intensive reading John yawned and began to rub his eyes. He decided it was time to stop and go home. He packed his things in his backpack and headed for the shelf where the book belonged. However, as he was putting the book back in it’s place, he heard someone talk to him.

“Wait! I was looking for it.” – said the most beautiful boy John had ever seen. ‘What in the hell John, control yourself!’, John thought.

“Uhm, sure. There,” – said John, handing him the book, – “Have fun.”

The boy looked at him with an odd look as he took it from him. John turned around to leave but stopped when he heard the small gasp the boy gave. And that’s when he felt it – a pain in his forearm.

He immediately rolled up the sleeve of his jumper and he also let out a small gasp with what his view came across. 

His soulmark, once silver, was now a deep scarlet.

It looked like a cicatrized wound. And John’s mind was transported to the day he received it, as he remembered a piece of information from one of the books: “The first time you speak to your soulmate, your soul will know. She will be able to recognize and reconnect with her long missed half. That’s why your soulmark it’ll appear like a scar. Because a soul has been ripped in half, and when it’s put together at last, she will finally be able to heal.”

John faced the boy, still with the sleeve of his jumper tightly rolled up. The boy also had his shirt’s sleeve raised, and was staring at John with a smile on his face and a look of dismay and something John couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Oh god.” – John whispered.

“Oh. Oh! We’re soulmates. You’re my other half! I can’t believe I found you so early!” – said the boy with a look of pure adoration.

John for his part was having a slightly breakdown. He was feeling a bit nauseated and had to lean against the nearest shelf for support.

“Are you feeling alright? I know this is intense, I’m really excited as well! Can you believe how lucky we are?” – the boy approached John but John raised a hand to prevent him from going closer. He then took a deep breath and spoke.

“No, I really can’t believe. That’s why I think this is some sort of mistake.”

The boy opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He suddenly had a confused look on his face.

“Mistake? How so? Look at our marks, this couldn’t be more clear.” – he replied.

John started to shake his head as he lowered his jumper’s sleeve in order to cover the soulmark.

“Actually no. Listen mate, I’m not gay. Never have been nor will be. I like girls. I do. My soulmate is a girl, I’m pretty sure. This must be a bizarre event, that’s it.” – John replied, breathing deeply and trying to confort himself.

The boy looked at John with a sad expression. His shoulders sank and his smile disappeared. He nodded at John, also lowering the shirt’s sleeve.

“I see.” – the boy put the book back in it’s place. He looked at John with what was clearly hurt in his profound eyes and simply said, - “I hope you find her.”

He turned and left. 

John watched him go and had the urge to follow him. So that’s exactly what he did. He was able to catch the boy just outside the library, grabbing his arm and making him turn aroud.

“Look, I’m sorry if I was a bit harsh on you. I just wanted to make clear that I’m not into that sort of thing.” – John tried to excuse himself, but felt more guilty with every word he was uttering.

The boy remained silent for a few seconds, his gaze piercing John to the ground. Finally, he cleared his throat.

“It’s fine. But tell me, which of your parents didn’t accept your brother’s sexuality?”

John’s jaw fell and he was only able to gap.

“How… how do you know that? Do we know each other?”

“No,” – the boy hesitated, - “I simply observed. You had signs of clear atraction when you first looked at me. Your pupils dilated and your breathing stopped being stable. But you immediately looked guilty and I could clearly see you trying to dismiss the thoughts you had. When you saw our soulmarks similarity you started panicking and almost fainted, like you didn’t want it to be true because you thought it was wrong, which obviously isn’t. Then you tried to make absolutely clear that you liked girls, but you said it in a way that wasn’t to try to convince me - you were trying to convince yourself. Your backpack has Harry written all over it but I could see from your librarian card that that is not in fact your name. So that belonged to someone else first, a brother most likely, and an older one. Judging by the way you reacted when you found out what we are I could only deduce that you have dealt with homophobia from close, so gay brother. However you still live with him, so one of your parents didn’t accept it well but and the other one didn’t care.”

John was having a hard time to cope with what he had just heard. He didn’t know what to respond to this magnific person standing in front of him, he had so much to say. So instead, he decided to say one simple word.

“Amazing.”

The boy looked at him with clear confusion and seemed to be looking for something. Maybe a lie beneath what John just said. He appeared to not have found it. 

“That’s not what people normally say.”

“What do people normally say?”

“Piss off.”

They both looked at each other for two full seconds and then a smile appeared in the boy’s face and John couldn’t help it. He started giggling and soon was laughing with the boy

When the giggles subsided, he extended his hand to John.

“I’m Sherlock Holmes. I moved a week ago to this town.”

John took the offered hand, and both boys felt like an electric shoke had passed through them in that moment, but neither let go.

“I’m John Watson. And as it appears, your soulmate.”

Both boys smiled at each other. They knew they had a long way to go, but at least they weren’t alone anymore. 

 

»»»

Today

 

The kettle boiled. John dragged himself to the counter and prepared his tea slowly. He had nothing to do today. 

He has been rescheduling the appointment with his terapist for over a week now - since the day he ran into Sherlock. 

And he knows that more than ever he needs his sessions, but he can’t bring himself to go there and have to face his own demons. Because his therapist will ask him to say things, to explain his feelings. And he can’t do that – not in front of another person.

But he knows that it’s not good keeping this to himself, he really needs to let it out. That’s why he’s been staring at his computer for over ten minutes now. That’s why he has been staring at it from time to time through this last few days.

It was a suggestion from his therapist – writing a blog. When he first heard her saying it, his reaction was laughing. Who would want to read a blog about a war veteran who couldn’t even walk right anymore? Nothing happened to him, he wouldn’t have anything to write about, so no, thank you very much.

But then Ella suggested he could create a blog and post private entries. No one would actually read it, but he would put his feelings out in the open – and that was what he really needed to do.

Which was why John decided this afternoon to just go for it. He set on his chair, laptop in front of him and for an hour he just kept creating one. When he was done and opened the entry, he stared at it, not knowing what exactly to write.

Should he start from the beginning or just write something random? 

He decided to just write as his thoughts appeared.

 

*  
´1st entry by John H. Watson`

I was 12 when I met him. I didn’t instantly knew it was him, but when I did I didn’t want to believe. He turned my world upside down that day. It took me two years to accept the fact that even if your soulmate is a man, it doesn’t instantly makes you gay. And it took me one more year to understand that even if it does makes you gay, it’s fine. Because the people that really matters won’t mind who you are, you’re still you in the end.

I wish I knew better back than. I was so blessed to find my soulmate so early in life, and yet it took me three years to realize that. 

Three years wasted. And because of that, I think the universe punished me by taking him from my life only four years later.

I was 19 when my soulmate and the love of my life decided that I wasn’t good enough to be a part of his life, leaving me behind.

He asked not to, but for almost two years I looked for him. Of course, I didn’t found him. Mycroft didn’t help me and I was just a 20 year old guy with no family aside from an alcoholic sister and no way to sustent myself.

So one day, when I saw them recruiting young people, I didn’t think twice. It was pointless to keep looking, and only hope had kept me looking for so long.

I was so tired of life that I thought I had absolutely nothing to lose. No one was going to miss me. At that time, I hadn’t spoke to the Holmes family in over 9 months, so I simply sent a letter saying my goodbyes.

I joined the army and graduated in medicine. In my last year I went to London and trained at Barts, but I hated it there. I missed the war and the adrenaline I was so used to. So I enlisted and was sent to war again. 

An army doctor. People say it’s a real honor. For me, it wasn’t about honor, it was about having something to occupy myself with. Have someone who relied on me.

My life had a meaning out there, and I had a purpose to live for. But that ended a few months ago when I was shot. 

I survived. 

But every day I wish I hadn’t.  
*

 

John stopped writing. It was enough for today.

He rose from the seat and went to the loo. When he got out he headed to the fridge to see what was inside that could serve as dinner. It was completely empty.

“Damn it!” – he exclaimed to the air.

He put his coat on, grabbed his keys and went out the door. It was only afternoon and Tesco would still be open, so he headed to that direction. 

He was about to turn the corner of an alley when a man who was running bump into him with full force, making him fall on the floor with a pain in his shoulder. Not a second later another man appeared, also running, but he stopped and knelt down by John’s side.

“John! Are you alright?” – came that baritone voice that put John’s heart instantly beating furiously.

“Sherlock? Who the hell was that!?” – John gasped as he tried to stand. Sherlock helped him up and John tried not to pay attention on how he could feel so intensely the heat that was emanating from Sherlock’s hands.

“That was a muderer.”

“What? Why are you chasing a muderer?” – John asked.

“No time to explain or he’ll get away!” – Sherlock replied impatiently, checking John for injuries.

“Well go on then, I’m fine. I was a soldier, remember? I had worse.”

Sherlock prepared to leave but stopped and gave John a mysterious look.

“Yes you were. And a good one.” - It wasn’t a question. – “I could use a bit of help. Care to join me?”

John looked at him to make sure he had heard him right, but when Sherlock’s face remained dead serious, he was only able to utter three little words.

“Oh god, yes.”

Sherlock gave him a half-smile, turned around and started running, John following him.

Behind on the floor stayed John’s cane, forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed, please leave a kudo, a comment or both, as I would really like your feedback! :)

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, please leave a kudo, a comment or both, as I would really like your feedback! :)


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